


Water Does Not Work That Way

by ChibisUnleashed



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, Jack's kind of an asshole, Pranks, Punk Jack, for like no reason at all, nerd aster, weird science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-17 09:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12362493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibisUnleashed/pseuds/ChibisUnleashed
Summary: Jack thinks it's funny to break Aster's brain a little. Just a little. Just for a minute.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wissler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wissler/gifts).



> Written in response to a quick doodle by Wissler, where Jack's all punked up and Aster's in a collar+sweater. So said, they are a punk and a nerd.

Aster knew nothing good was coming his way when Jack ran up too fast and too excited. Generally that meant he was about to have a really bad day, or Jack was about to get almost expelled again.

Or both. Sometimes it was both.

“Aster, Aster, I found out something really cool today!”

“Yes, Jack,” Aster replied flatly, “T-shirts  _ do  _ have a specific front and a specific back.”

“No, shut up,” Jack waved his hands as if that might be able to stop Aster’s mouth, then reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of water. A bottle of water that was really too big to have been hiding in that bag, what the fuck?

Jack was either practicing sleight of hand magic on the side or he actually was magic.

And honestly, if Jack really could bend the space time continuum to his will, that would explain a lot of the shit he got away with over the years.

“I discovered this cool thing you can do with mentos.”

“It won’t work with water,” Aster was quick to deny, “It only works with-”

“It’ll be fine, I looked it up,” Jack interrupted, setting the bottle on the ground and getting to ‘work.’

“So have I, and it won’t work,” but Aster didn’t have the energy to  _ stop  _ him or anything. Let it fail. Jack would learn.

Jack shook his head and continued on his way, “Nono, it’s gonna foam like crazy. You’ll see.”

It wouldn’t. Aster just rolled his eyes, “Water doesn’t foam, idiot.” 

Jack’s grin had that edge to it that Aster never liked. The one that said he was going to do it because everyone said he shouldn’t, he  _ couldn’t.  _

Aster struggled to remember why they were friends.

“Watch, I  _ bet  _ you,” Jack dared, finally standing, “it’s gonna work.”

Aster snorted, “I learned my lesson, betting with you. It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“It i-”

“Oh, just shut up and let it fail, already!”

Jack grinned, shoved an entire roll of mentos into the bottle, and hopped back.

Aster hopped back too, because he wasn’t willing to bet, even with the universe, having to walk home in a soggy sweater vest drenched in sugary water.

A fifteen foot fountain of bubbling foam erupted from the bottle.

Aster was dumbfounded.

More than that, he was angry.  _ Mentos and water did not work that way.  _

“That’s not right. It’s not supposed to work,” he muttered absently, confusion lacing every word, “The chemicals aren’t the same. There’s no carbonation. The reaction shouldn’t-”

Jack shrugged, “I swapped the entire bottle for club soda before I brought it over.”

Aster stopped. That explained everything. Obviously. Jack’s surety, that grin, the reaction working, the geyser of sugar. Of course Jack knew something Aster didn’t. Of course he would swap the bottles to make it work. It explained everything.

Everything, of course, except-

_ “WHY?” _


	2. This is art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring dialogue directly from Wissler's own type!

“You’ve got a crush on me!”

Aster refused to leave the sanctuary of his hands, blocking out the sight if not the sound of Jack flipping through  _ every goddamn page  _ of his most recent sketchbook, coming to the absolute worst of conclusions.

“Don’t be an idiot,” he begged, “I can’t take anymore of your idiocy.”

“Whatever you say,” Jack sang, turning to the next page and yet another sketch of himself. There was nothing except the sound of turning pages for several seconds, and then, “You never get my nose right!”

Aster took personal offense to that. If he was willing to face the world right now, he might’ve actually stood up to fight Jack. But that would require  _ looking  _ and Aster was just not up to that right now.

“Who made you the art critic?!”

“It’s literally pictures of me!” Jack defended, and flipped a couple more pages in rapid succession, “I think I have every right to judge them!”

“You look different to yourself!” He didn’t know why he was bothering to explain, but reasons were reasons and Aster couldn’t change that, “Everyone knows that!”

“Not  _ that  _ different,” Jack grumbled, and Aster wanted to hit him again. He continued with a laugh in his voice, “You totally have a crush on me.”

“I do not.”

“Do.”

“Do not.”

“Do.”

“Do- Oh my God,” Aster buried deeper into his hands, “Just shut up.” 

“I’ll shut up when you admit you love me.”

“I don’t love you.”

“You’re lying,” Jack sang again, flipping page after page, “Look at all these sketches of me!”

Aster groaned. This wasn’t fair. Why was his life like this. 

There was probably no point to explaining this either, but Aster had to try. For the sake of his dignity. “I draw you so much because you never sit still!”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself.”

“No, really!” Aster insisted, “It’s the same reason my teacher brings in her chickens for us to paint. They never stop moving, so you have to paint them fast.”

Whatever else his words accomplished, Jack was at least quiet now. Utterly still, actually, if Aster’s hearing was to be trusted. 

Aster didn’t trust his hearing, not around Jack. He finally lowered his hands and turned around to face his bed, where Jack laid staring at the sketchbook in his hands, a troubled expression on his face. Funny that being told he’s a chicken got him to stop acting like a chicken.

Aster’s voice was gentle, but firm. It spoke of absolute truth and the reality of things.

“You’re my chicken, Jack.”

Betrayed eyes met Aster. 

“Why do I feel like this?”


End file.
